Page 47 of Heart of Mischief

“Weird.”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard weirder.”

Like a glacier changing direction, Thrym’s head swiveled, and he looked back down at Charlie and Elias. His eyes narrowed. “You brought a human,” he growled, the earthquake of his voice sharpening with menace. “This is against the terms of our agreement, mare. No one is to know where I am.”

“The human is part of your payment,” Elias said.

Charlie whipped her head to face him, eyes bulging. “What?”

“She is a daughter of Loki,” Elias explained, ignoring her outrage. “Half-human, half-god. Her divine blood will allow her to enter Thrudheim, Thor’s home, and take Mjollnir while he sleeps.”

Blood roared in Charlie’s ears. Was this a trap? A scheme Elias had been plotting all along? Trick her into coming down to the dunes, then force her into Thrym’s service as payment for whatever favor the joturri had done for him seven years before?

Bastard. Screw her plan to make him human again. He’d be dead before sundown.

Thrym’s mouth spread into a hideous yellow smile. “At last. Revenge for that disgusting trick Thor and Loki played on me at my wedding.”

It was then that Charlie realized where she’d heard the joturri’s name before.

“You’re the giant from the legend,” she said, feeling awestruck despite her anger. “The one that stole Thor’s hammer and demanded Freyja as your bride for its return.”

“And I would have had her.” He spat in disdain, the result of which was more of a watery mud missile than a glob of saliva. It soared through the air and landed in the lake with a fifteen-foot-high splash. “If your lying father hadn’t disguised Thor and brought him in her place. All you puny creatures look the same to me, cockroachesscurrying about the floor. How was I supposed to know he wasn’t the goddess?”

“The arms as thick and hairy as bears might have been a clue,” Elias muttered.

“What was that?” asked Thrym, leaning his mountainous torso down and rustling the trees growing from his back.

“I said, a completely understandable mix-up. And absolutely despicable on the part of the gods.”

Thrym nodded in satisfaction.

“I’m confused,” said Charlie. “The stories all say that Thor killed you with Mjollnir as soon as you gave it back to him. How are you still alive?”

“The writers of those stories didn’t know that I am a joturri. Neither did any of the Asgardians. When Thor attacked me with his hammer, he didn’t know that he was only killing one half of my being.”

“Oh,” she said. “And your other self was eventually able to resuscitate you?”

“Not resuscitate,” Thrym corrected. “Regrow. All giants are half creature and half mountain, born of dual incubation: ten years in the mother’s womb, ten years in the dirt. As a joturri, my soul was preserved in my second self. All my other self had to do was plant a piece of that soul at the foot of a mountain, and eventually my giant self regrew.”

“Right.” Charlie blinked. “Sounds… simple?”

“It is,” said Thrym. “Though lengthy. And I had to do it in secret, lest Thor find out I was still alive.”

“Is that why you’re hiding in a sand dune?”

“I am not hiding,” the joturri snarled, the sound raining down in a tumble of rocks. “I am biding my time until I find a way to take back what should have been mine and reclaim my rightful place on the throne of Jotunheim.”

“Which is where we come in!” Elias piped up. “Charlotte herewill sneak into Thor’s house, snatch Mjollnir out from under his nose, and bring the hammer straight to you. Problem solved.”

Charlie wanted to stab Elias in the neck. What the Hel was he talking about? She opened her mouth, ready to announce that she would not be going anywherenearThor’s hammer, but Elias turned to look at her with wide, meaningful eyes.

“Isn’t that right?” he asked, winking.Play along, he mouthed.

Her shoulders relaxed. Oh. Eliaswasplaying a trick—but on the giant, not her.

Or so it seemed.

She didn’t know if she’d ever truly be able to tell when Elias was lying. That was just the nature of working with a mare. But it was the risk she had to take if she wanted their partnership to work. Er…pseudopartnership. Partnership-that-would-end-in-her-betraying-him-by-destroying-the-thing-he-loved-most-about-himself (besides his butt, apparently).